


Zombie Boy

by aiden_pierce



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Keith has a bad ex, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possibility of Keith turning, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiden_pierce/pseuds/aiden_pierce
Summary: "When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth." In the midst of a zombie outbreak, Keith Kogane struggles to fit in even amongst the earth's few survivors. He faces loss and betrayal, fighting to survive in a world torn apart by chaos.(Please do not comment anything negative, I understand that not all of you approve of this ship, but I'd appreciate acceptance and positivity. No ship hate, all ships are valid. Thank you.)None of the VLD characters belong to me, I do not take credit for their creation or the creation of Voltron Legendary Defender.





	1. Hell Has Awoken

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize beforehand for the short chapters, they should get longer as the fic goes on. But the first three chapters I pre-wrote so they're shorter. Thanks for checking this work out, and I hope you all enjoy!

Keith Kogane had never possessed much in life, living out his days in practical solitude; avoiding contact with others, and wealth. He'd lived in a shack as long as he could remember, a one room building, barely 10'x10'. But somehow, amongst all this chaos, rage, cannibalism, and massacre; he felt that he as a person had never sunk to so low.

It was the beginning of the end, the day of the dead. An onslaught of death and agony, forcing the very stitches that held your soul together, to rot and wear away; much like the walking skeletons that haunted Keith's dreams. His body ached, and somehow he felt that he could fall apart once more as he watched his friend, his comrade, his brother in arms; scream as blood ran down his face and festering hands tore him limb from limb. Trapped behind a thick opaque piece of plastic, unable to do anything but scream and pound, as his friend was eaten alive.

His clothes and hair were matted with the curdling, stench filled, blood and bile of those wretched things, he could taste their rotting cells on his lips. His face stained with putrid red liquid, he tried to keep the minimal contents of his stomach at bay as he watched the corpse of his friend be devoured by the remnants of what used to be people. His lover had abandoned the two of them, trapped behind the windows of a decrepit convenience store; staving off death for himself even a moment more. Eventually they lost interest in him, as he sat there backed up against the wall, body shaking and tears running down his face.

After sitting there, bathing in a mixture of blood, tears, and self pity; he stood on thin and unstable legs, searching for an escape. Switchblade unlatched and clasped between his teeth, Keith jumped up catching hold of the ledge leading to an open air vent. He pulled himself into the vent, knowing that now wasn't the right time to grieve. He closed the vent, in preparation for the nearly impossible possibility that the biters somehow gained the ability to climb into air vents. Crawling through the air vent proved difficult despite his leanness; but soon enough he emerged from the building unscathed, except for a few scratches.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A thirty minute trek through the woods and minimal run-ins with walkers, saw him back at camp; sore and tired. He stumbled through their can line, the rattling causing his head to spin, as members of his group rushed over weapons at the ready.

"I- it's me...it's just me.." Keith said, holding his hands up; his chest quivering with each shaky breath he took. "It's just me."

Keith felt a frown come to his face when Knox, his boyfriend walked over, feigning concern and joy as he pulled Keith into a tight hug, cupping the back of his head with a bloody hand. Keith didn't know how to feel about this, he'd never embraced a killer, someone who left others behind to die, to save his own skin. He didn't know what to do, how to react, what to say. Knox had left him and Adrian...he'd left them with those creatures, to be devoured alive.

"Thank god Keith...I thought they'd gotten you..." He cried, kissing the side of Keith's bloodied face, taking a deep breath.

But as he remembered what Knox did, the empty look in his face as he'd slipped away, the screaming and the gurgling of his friend as he died, Keith found it easier and easier to lie, he found it beneficial to go along with Knox's lies, to lay low.

"Knox..." The black haired teen whispered, burying his face in Knox's chest, and closing his eyes. "You made it.."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith went hungry for the remainder of the day, unable to stomach the thought of food. He washed up in a stream, read a book, whittled a stick, walked through the woods, sat by the fire; anything to get his mind off of Adrien and the inevitable mortality of the world. The day went by, and soon enough Knox approached Keith again, smiling faintly as he put a hand on his shoulder.

"Keith, let's take a walk." He whispered, his grip on Keith's shoulder tightening slightly as he led the nineteen year old out of the camp.

In the woods, they walked in silence for about ten minutes, Knox's hand never leaving Keith's shoulder. Keith knew something was up, his fists tense and his eyes on the forest floor as Knox stopped them; lifting the Korean's chin so their eyes met.

"Baby...you really shouldn't have come back from there. How on earth did you survive?" He whispered, expression going stagnant.

"I crawled through a vent after you let those things kill Adrian." Keith growled.

"Oh, no. I really didn't, he was weak to begin with...should've died off long ago. I was just cutting out a weak link, letting things strengthen up."

"So then you thought of me as a weak link too? A hassle, slowing you down? Do you know how batshit that sounds Knox!? Adrian was my friend, I'm your boyfriend!" He snapped, grabbing the front of Knox's shirt.

"It didn't start out that way. I saw you, and you looked so angry all the time, and I thought...I want to make him smile, just once. And then I did, and god I thought you were the very sun that lit the sky. Soon enough though, you just became a piece of ass. You never really calmed down, did you Keith? Always fired up, those eyes of yours heated and untameable." Knox paused, sighing.

"Look sweetheart...I can't have you telling anyone what I did out there. I won't make it on my own."

"What, you're going to kill me, fucker?"

"No...just gonna make sure you can't go back to camp. Ever."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Knox grabbed Keith's arms pinning them to his side. With a shove, the Korean was backed into a tree, letting out a grunt as he fought against Knox's grip. He hollered, using his body mass to shove Knox off of him, elbowing the taller male in the jaw before making a run for it. And suddenly the world was spinning around him, and he fell to the floor, Knox's weight crushing his lungs.

"Knox! Get off me!"

Keith growled, huffing and trying to push himself up from the ground, his cheek pressed to a mound of dirt. He let out a cry of pain as his arms were pinned behind his back, groaning. His world was collapsing, and he was fighting for his life trying to escape his ex's psychopathic tendencies.

"Sorry baby, this is how it works in the wild. Just think of it as...natural selection." Knox whispered, his lips pressed to Keith's supraspinatus (the part between your shoulder and your neck). He let out a breath, listening to Keith squirm before burying his teeth in the nineteen year olds skin.

Quickly Keith understood what Knox had intended to do, as he let out a pained wail; feeling hot, sickening blood, soak through his shirt. And quickly, Knox released him, standing up and brushing the leaves off his jeans. Keith laid there, panting and gasping in pain, taking a deep shaky breath before bringing himself to his knees.

"Don't try and come back, Keith. They'll kill you if they think you've been bitten. You really were cute you know." And with a swing of his right fist, Knox had Keith falling to the forest floor again; his vision darkening until he saw no more.

 

 


	2. Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finally finds shelter after a long haul through the woods and into the city. When the streets are overrun with walkers, he finds housing in an unexpectedly calm house, inhabited by a man who won't hesitate to put him out of this world. And why wouldn't he? When Keith is sporting a convincing bite and is on his merry way to death's doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two for you all, once again I apologize for it's shortness. Enjoy!

Keith awoke to snarling, the rustling of leaves, and milky yellow eyes staring blankly into his soul. Decaying fingers reaching for him and lipless teeth chomping at him, making an awful clacking sound each time they met. With a jolt and a cry of pain, he sent the walker stumbling backwards; finding his footing with heavy and startled gasps. His head was pulsating heavily, and his body swayed dangerously as he got to his feet. The walker in front of him had rose back to its own morbidly rotten feet, gnarled toes sticking out the front of badly worn sneakers.

The bite on his shoulder was stinging numbly, reminding him of the burning betrayal he'd experienced last night. Keith watched the walker as it lunged for him once more, sidestepping and beginning to walk away quickly. He had no time for those festering creatures, he had to find a place to spend the night, his mind going to shelter even though the sun had just barely risen. Walking with a hurried and impatient pace, he soon exited the forest; uncomfortable about the limited cover he had in the outskirts of the abandoned city.

Traveling on foot was taxing, sapping at his limited energy until he was unsteady on his feet once more, stumbling into an old pharmaceutical store and collapsing onto the tiled floor. He soon realized the stupidity of his rapid decision making as he recognized the gurgling growl of another undead creature off to the side. With frail movements he cupped the back of it's head, puncturing its temple with the only weapon he had left, his switchblade. He was lucky he always had it on him, even when sleeping and bathing.

After reassuring himself multiple times, that the rest of the small one story building was clear of the undead; Keith sank to the floor once more, propping himself up against the wall. It had only been two hours since he'd come back into consciousness, and yet he felt his body giving out on him, aching and burning with the need for food, water, and rest. Water was his most immediate concern, and he knew he had a miniscule chance of finding it in the city. With this conundrum on his mind, he found it nearly impossible to attain rest, his second largest concern. The human body could go three weeks without food, but only eleven days without rest, and three to seven days without water.

He needed these things, and in the midst of an apocalypse it would be strenuous to find any one of them, let alone three. He had nothing on him, except for his switchblade and the clothes on his back. Food, water, and rest aside, he would definitely need antibiotics, and the threat of infection in the bite he'd received was serious. Despite his immediate needs, Keith could already feel himself slipping off into the drowsy world of uncomfortable sleep, eyelids weighted and body numb as he fell asleep.

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Keith had spent four days wandering the city, staggering along on weak legs, stomach shrinking with lack of nutrition, tongue dry, head pounding, and muscles about to give out. With so many walkers roaming the city streets, and gathering in buildings, he'd barely slept; eyes dark and baggy, his coherent thoughts dissolving before him. He'd spent the days gathering what he could, unable to find any medication, and eating anything he could get his hands on.

It was getting dark faster now, the air around him becoming frigid as fall set in, the leaves crumbling beneath his feet. He was deep into the city now, in a place he'd never been to, the streets were almost clear of the undead, damaged cars scattered about in the fading sunlight. Keith walked slowly, breathing shallowly with quick intakes of breath; he made his way to the building nearest to him, twisting the doorknob experimentally and giving a shallow laugh as he found it to be locked.

He pulled out his switchblade, sticking it between the door and the wall and sliding it down the side until he heard the lock click lightly. Keith smiled in relief, for once things were going his way, apparently the last person to be in this building hadn't locked it quite all the way; and that was a dream come true. He slipped inside the building quickly, grunting as he pushed the door, and shoving some furniture out of the way. With a cautious glance around, Keith grabbed an old book of poetry off of a side table, tossing it into the far corner of the room to see if any walkers came out of hiding.

Pleasantly, he didn't detect a single snarl, dropping his limited things to the floor and rushing upstairs with an excited whoop. Keith soon discovered a master bed and bath, and a sophisticated office along with a supply closet in the upstairs, looking around with a childish interest. It had been so long since he'd been in a secure building, not even when he'd been with his most previous group. They'd lived in tents, setting up prehistoric can lines and spears around the camp, and he'd never known how much he would miss walls and a ceiling.

Keith shuffled into the bathroom, reaching out for the showers knob; giving it an uninterested twist to the left, and jumping in surprise as the shower sprang to life, spraying water down in a clear stream. The glee he felt seeing this, was undeniably the most excitement and joy he'd felt in years; making a mad dash to strip out of his bloodied clothing and leap into the steaming shower.

Barely after running sudsy hands through his hair and scrubbing his face clean of grime, had Keith taken a moment to think about how unrealistic this situation was. He'd failed to notice how clean and secure everything was, how the book he'd tossed had been stacked in a neat pile, how the house had no creatures inside it, how the furniture looked organized, how the windows were shut firmly with steel plating, how every single thing in this building looked used and had barely a single speck of dust on it.

With a gut rotting fear inside him, weighing heavy against his mind; Keith hurried to rinse the soap off his body, turning the water off with a curse. He stepped out quickly, drying off with a towel that was all too clean for an apocalypse and speeding out of the bathroom. He stumbled into the master bedroom, raiding the closet for anything he could find, shrinking back in dismay as he realized the clothes were too big for him. Which meant they belonged to a very large man, someone who could hurt him easily; very easily. He ran to the office, grabbing a handful of rubber bands and returning to the bedroom with haste. After a panicked struggle, he pieced together an outfit by tightening the waist of some stolen pants and a long sleeve shirt with the rubber bands and putting on a pair of mismatched socks that were many sizes too big.

He was moving too quickly, body weakened and famished, shoulder aching and burning; head spinning. Keith was sent into a spiral of dizziness, vision fading at the edges, tongue numb, ears ringing and once more, he fell to the ground in a heap.


	3. New Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith wakes up and this time there's a stranger downstairs. How will he deal with this situation? Will he find a new friend? And if not, what will he arm himself with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Here's chapter three! I'll make sure the chapters are at least a little longer in the future. I'm actually working on chapter four right now! Enjoy the books, dad music, and 'Keith's' floppy socks.

When Keith woke up again, he was lying on his back on a bed, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and dad music playing faintly downstairs. At first, he felt unnaturally relaxed about the situation, lying there studying his surroundings. It was too similar to the world before the breakout, calm and homey. The room was painted a warm yellow tone, with wood furniture placed in convenient spots, and little decorations lying absently around the room. It smelled a bit like sandalwood and honey, and slightly like the pine trees in the forest, and Keith felt like he could lie here forever. But then he remembered, that he was an intruder in someone's home, and he'd been captured in the middle of his very mediocre escape.

He sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his shoulder and licking his dry lips, but it did little to moisten the dehydrated skin. In his rush to evacuate the house, he'd had no time to eat or drink anything, not only that but his bite lay exposed by the collar of whoever's shirt he'd stolen. And to Keith's disdain he came to the conclusion that whoever he had wandered upon, now knew about the bite, and thought he was going to turn. There were no obvious weapons in the room, and it was very clearly a bedroom, so little was in it to protect himself with sparing some furniture and the bed. But, Keith took a book off of a shelf, bearing it close to himself and standing up with a great effort. He stumbled to the door, opening it slowly. He was unexplainably grateful that the door didn't squeak when he opened it, because he knew it would probably have been the death of him.

Keith stole a glance around the corner, bracing himself and taking a deep, painful breath. He stepped out of the room, the socks he'd stolen shuffling across the carpet as he took labored steps through the hallway. They were actually becoming really annoying, but he didn't have time to find a smaller pair. He checked all the rooms upstairs, making sure that no one came up from behind him, and walked down the stairs carefully. He looked over the banister, searching the living room, and spotting a man with an undercut sitting in a chair by the door. His back was facing Keith, and he took the opportunity to sneak up behind him, raising the book above his head and swinging his arms down as hard as he could, to hit the man over the head. He let out a weak laugh, wincing in pain as the man caught his wrist gently, holding it in his much larger grasp almost effortlessly as Keith tried to pry himself free.

"...I had to try at least." He mumbled, as the man turned to meet his gaze, taking the book from Keith's hands and setting it down on the coffee table with a soft smile.

"I admire your efforts, but I don't think there's any reason for you to fight anymore." The man said gently, releasing Keith's hands and instructing him to sit down.

Keith did so reluctantly, breathing heavily in response to his recent movement. "How so? I'm obviously in trouble..." He huffed, his voice breaking off as he took the time to examine the man who sat before him.

He was very well built and Japanese, with a bit of something else mixed in and calm brown eyes that looked crystal clear. A rough scar ran across the bridge of his nose, and he had high set cheekbones, strong eyebrows and relaxed lips. He sat in a very calm posture, although something lay under the surface of his exterior that Keith couldn't decipher and the way his shoulders were slumped in the slightest way, made him look inhumanly honest and vulnerable. He had a kind look to his face despite his rough exterior, and he held his hands together in his lap, looking a bit sympathetic and almost disappointed for some reason. His right hand was grey and black, hanging a bit limply compared to its counterpart, artificial and prosthetic.

"I think you might've been in trouble before you came here." He said softly, pointing calmly to Keith's shoulder. "You'll turn soon, won't you?"

"No-, that-..." Keith sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted, and honestly being put to death by this man didn't seem so bad at the moment. But, he had to try and explain his situation at least a bit before he gave up completely. "God...it's such a long story."

"I won't ask you to tell me, but I'll listen if you're open to sharing." The man replied gently, sitting up a little straighter.

"I wasn't bitten by a walker, I was bitten by a person."

"Walkers are people, aren't they?"

"Yes, I guess so...but he wasn't a walker yet. I don't think he is now, either. Though I wish he was."

"Someone bit you?"

 

"My boyfriend..."

"Getting carried away in bed?"

"No." Keith snapped. "He bit me to keep me away from our camp. He- he attacked me, because I knew something that would get him killed. I swear I wasn't bitten-" He stopped mid sentence, breathing heavily.

"I don't think I can believe you..." The man sighed sadly, biting his lower lip. "I have to stay safe you know."

"You think I want to kill you? God I don't think I could even if I was a walker! Please, believe me." He whined, burying his face in his hands.

"You're making this hard for me kid." He paused for a long while, sighing deeply. "If you let me look at it, I'll see if you're telling me the truth. And if I believe you even the slightest bit, I'll let you stay here until you're strong enough to move on. But, if you are lying, then I have to kill you, and if I believe you and you do turn, I have to kill you. You understand?"

"Yes... " Keith whispered solemnly.

After another moment of silence, the man asked for Keith's name. "What should I call you?" It was an unusual way to ask for someone's name, but Keith suspected that it was formed from years of habit.

"I'm...Keith, it's Keith."

"I'm Shiro, nice to meet you. Now...let's get you back in bed. You look like you're going to fall over and die."


	4. Questioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro asks Keith about how he got bitten, will the young man be able to convince his host that he won't turn? Keith begins to question himself, trying to deny his human needs and habits. But, maybe Shiro has needs too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter four everyone! I tried to make it longer and it came out at around 2,300 words. It's a good start, but I'm gonna keep trying to make the chapters longer. Enjoy!

“I’m listening...if you need a break every now and then, that’s fine.”

A pause. Rustling. A slight sting and a wince.

“...I was sent on a supply run with my boyfriend no, Knox...and my best friend. Everything was going well-”

Another wince.

“...sorry.”

“It’s fine. Everything was going fine, but there was a horde of them- walkers, in the store room in the back of the outlet. We avoided them on the first bypass, but on the way back we were driven between the glass and...that fucker- he left us! He-...”

Keith choked up, pressing the back of his hand to his lips, closing his eyes and holding back a gag. He shook his head solemnly, breathing heavily through his nose.

“I can’t…”

“Okay, it’s okay...that’s enough for now...let me finish cleaning you up. You’re still very weak."

Shirogane helped Keith sit back, propping his head and shoulders up with a pair of pillows. He had just finished nursing the ‘bite’ on the younger man’s shoulder. When he’d examined it, he couldn’t find many differences between an actual bite and a false bite. The bite was deep, and already infected, the skin was hot and very irritated. The bitemarks weren’t as messy as they could’ve been, but Shirogane had seen bites cleaner than this. Right now, it was impossible to tell the difference. But he knew one thing, if this bite wasn’t a genuine one, then it must’ve hurt like hell. From what Shirogane knew, the teeth and jaws of walkers, despite their imminent decay; were a lot stronger than human teeth and jaws. He’d seen people dismembered in moments, the walkers’ bite forces were just that strong. It would have required a lot of effort to bite so deep into muscle like that, Shirogane knew it was possible, but very laborious. The pain would’ve been excruciating.

Observing Keith’s physical condition made Shiro fall into an old habit of his, worrying his lip. The young man looked extremely thin and malnourished. His eyes were sunken in and dark, his lips were split and bleeding, his complexion pale; although Shirogane suspected that was just how his skin was. Keith’s collar bones stuck out more than looked healthy, not well hidden by the oversized shirt he wore and his arms and shoulders looked especially thin and bony. The Japanese man was sure that if Keith hadn’t been wearing such a baggy shirt, that his ribs and hips would look very similar. The Koreans usual garb sat in a laundry basket, and would be washed later. He looked very nervous without it on, like he was both embarrassed and scared. Maybe when he had it back; Shirogane thought, he would feel more comfortable.

He picked up Keith’s right hand, and sighed as he saw split skin branching over the ridges of the Koreans knuckles. There were a few scars hidden beneath them, and Shirogane had the intuition that Keith liked to use his fists a lot. What was mildly concerning to him was that Keith had been wearing gloves the entire time up until now. He must’ve been punching very hard indeed. Neither of them spoke for minutes, as Shirogane disinfected and bandaged Keith’s knuckles, moving to his knees and shins, which had been scuffed badly and had the occasional grit stuck beneath the skin. Shirogane was a little more cautious when reaching to clean the strange young man’s face, giving him a requesting look. He did not move a muscle until Keith gave him a curt nod, wiping blood off his skin. The skin above his left eyebrow was split, it had run a thin trail down his face and Shirogane pressed a bandage over the raw skin there. The Korean had a small scrape on his chin, and some additional cuts on his cheek, and the older man took care of those quickly as he sensed Keith’s growing discomfort.

Shirogane sat back, giving Keith space and giving him a soft smile. “That looks better.” He was still on a serious edge, he had no way to verify if Keith was actually telling him the truth about the bite, and if he wasn’t he could turn at any time. He would have to be extremely cautious around him.

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Keith watched with tired eyes as the man called Shiro wrapped up numerous parts of his body, dabbing at his bloody skin with a cotton ball and apologizing each time Keith winced. He was nervous. Very nervous, and he did not want to be here any longer than he had to be. He planned to leave as soon as he physically could, but he suspected that would be a long while. He knew he should probably stay, if the opportunity was offered up; but it was obvious to him that he wasn’t very good in social situations. Thirteen years of being an orphan didn’t help his people skills, in fact he would be surprised if he had any.

He’d hopped around from foster family to foster family, some better than others; but in the end he had been so uncomfortable around them that they’d quickly put him back up for adoption. He grew used to it quickly, as he did with everything. He’d learned to adapt to every new thing, but frustratingly the one thing he hadn’t seemed to be able to adapt to was this damned apocalypse. Sure, he’d gotten used to the walkers, and the occasional asshole who’d either tried to kill him, rape him, or steal from him; but he’d been unable to adapt to the lifestyle of someone who was truly and completely alone. Keith would have been getting along perfectly by himself in a normal day, shopping once a month and working a job at any establishment he could find. But, when all the houses were destroyed or infested with hordes of walkers, it was hard to settle down; and damn hard to make it on you own. It seemed the universe was saying that survival was impossible without someone to watch your back.

But, the last person Keith had relied on to do that, had stabbed him in the back instead. And he couldn’t find it in himself to trust anyone again. Ever.

Looking back at the man who’d had enough mercy to let him stay in his home; Keith still couldn’t trust him. Sure, he’d forgiven him for using up the hot water for the day, stealing his clothes, and then trying to kill him with litterature; and damn the guy was built like a brick wall, but trust wasn’t something earned through simple deeds. A place to stay and a warm bed were nice though, very nice. Keith knew that as soon as he decided to leave this place, he would regret losing both of those things. And to his own shame, he’d been without basic human needs for so long, that his body was starting to crave anything.

He’d shivered multiple times in the past few minutes, because of the way Shiro touched him so delicately. His fingers were slightly callused and warm, they almost burned against Keith’s cold skin. He felt a tiny euphoric rush at every time their eyes met, and every time the man's deep voice vibrated against his eardrums. He wanted very simple things, gentle caresses of his cheek and waist, the comfortable feeling of someone's arm around his shoulders, to curl up on a sturdy chest. He wanted all of that so bad, so fucking bad, but he wouldn’t let the desire get to him. This man was a stranger, and he was very obviously cautious of Keith as well. No doubt, because of the deep, burning, bite mark on his shoulder. 

Now, the thought of Knox’s teeth against his skin made his stomach coil with knots of disgust. 

It would have been welcomed once.

But not any more…

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Speaking of his most human desires, the smell of Shiro’s deodorant had mixed with his natural scent in the shirt that Keith was wearing, and every whiff of it he caught had his head spinning. He bit his lip, tearing at the dry skin and feeling blood well against the tip of his tongue, thick and salty. He saw Shiro flinch almost instantly, and thought maybe it was because of the blood. But, why would someone so tough looking be afraid of blood? That couldn’t be it. Maybe he thought he was making Keith uncomfortable? That wasn’t exactly wrong, but Keith knew that the both of them were uncomfortable. He just didn’t know what to do.

What did someone do when they had broken into someones only shelter, stolen clothes and essentials from them and then tried to kill them? What did someone do when their home was broken into, surely not this. No one would be so calm and welcoming to a stranger, an intruder. But luckily Shiro didn’t seem like he was going to kill Keith, not yet at least. That was fine with him, but when it came up to that, Keith knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to fight back. It probably wouldn’t go well, and he’d end up maimed or worst case; dead. Maybe that was okay too. He knew he wouldn’t make it long on his own, and that brought him back to his future choices.

Did he stay or did he go? Should he stay? If he gained Shiro’s trust, would he be welcome?

Would they become something more?

Or would it end how it ended with Knox?

Keith told himself that this was why he needed to leave as soon as he was able.

...

“When did you last eat?”

A voice broke his internal thought process, concerned and maybe a little suspicious. Keith looked up to meet two gunmetal eyes, wiping the blood off of his lip that had now started to clot. He lost himself in his thoughts again, wondering how a Japanese person like Shiro got such an eye color. From his mother or his father? From neither? Was he adopted too? How long had he lived alone? Where did he get such high cheekbones and a strong jaw like that? Did he work out often? Was he full blooded Japanese like Keith was full Korean, or was one of his parents something else? Why did Keith care so mu-

“Keith?”

“...yes?”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Maybe a week ago..”

“What about water?”

“Three days ago.”

“Let’s get something in your system. Can you walk?”

“I don’t need you to carry me if that’s what you think.” He snapped, not really meaning to.

“Okay kid, get up then.”

Keith shot him a half hearted glare, throwing the covers off of himself and slowly sliding his feet onto the ground. The socks he’d stolen were pooling around his ankles, making him feel tiny and insecure. He pushed off of the bed, standing on wobbly knees and sore calves. He only dared move further when Shiro opened the door and walked out into the hallway, giving him an expecting but gentle look. Keith stumbled forward, gritting his teeth as his feet refused to cooperate for a few seconds. When they finally fluttered to life, he pushed his way past Shiro and walked down the stairs, trying to ignore the soft chuckle he heard behind him. God, was his voice attractive. It was like Shiro was a god. For once he wished he was asexual like his friend Pidge, he wondered where they were. Maybe they’d found their way to safety and were helping to crack the code of this whole apocalypse. He’d heard something about a city to the west trying to come up with a cure. Maybe they were there. God, Keith hoped they were safe.

He bit back a sigh, focusing on the carpeted steps in front of him. He wouldn’t let this guy know how emotional he actually was, he wouldn’t show him a single weakness. That would be his downfall. Especially if Shiro tried to comfort him, Keith wouldn’t be able to deny a single thing that the man offered him.  
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Shirogane watched cautiously as Keith walked down the stairs, each step he went down was a precarious balance between safety and obvious injury. A fall down the stairs in this condition would do a lot of harm, and god did Shirogane struggle to keep himself from placing a steadying hand on Keith’s shoulder. He wanted to remain polite, but politeness could result in the young man's death or crippling. Shirogane continued to bite at his lip, smiling bitterly as he recalled that Keith also had a habit of doing so. He suspected they had many things in common, apart from their asian heritage, nervous tick of biting their lips, and general stubbornness.

And in regards to Shirogane’s stubbornness; he could not decide whether or not he should allow Keith to stay here. If he wasn’t actually bitten, then he would need shelter, and Shirogane had an extra room. But what if he didn’t want to stay? What if he left and then died quickly after? He didn’t want to be responsible for that, but he also didn’t want to be responsible for making Keith uncomfortable. But, he couldn’t help but be hopeful, he’d been without company for a long time. And although he could deal with it, he actually wanted Keith to stay. He knew it’d be a slim chance, and that it was inappropriate to think about at this time; but he couldn’t help but wonder if Keith would be open to a relationship.

But, that was ridiculous.

Keith had just suffered a life threatening breakup. Well...if he was telling the truth, then he had.

But still, he was beautiful.

What was he thinking?

It was like logic had left him, and all his mind could think of was how hard he wanted to hold Keith. He just wanted to hold him close and play with his small hands. He wanted to run his fingers through the young man’s hair, count the freckles on his cheeks. 

It was terrifying how desperate a person could get without physical contact.


	5. One of them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finds himself doubting himself more and more, nervous about the dangers of staying with Shiro. He fights off a strange illness and the urge to throw himself into Shiro's arms. And when Shiro suffers a potentially fatal injury, he is frightened and stupefied by his journey outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the long gap between chapters, I got busy for a while there. I hope you enjoy this new chapter and I'll have the new one out asap!

A few hours had passed since Keith met Shiro, and now he stood in the bathroom again. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror, noticing how unwell he looked; despite the fact that he’d finally gotten some food and water into his system. He was feeling somewhat better, but his bones ached and felt like ice. His skin was much paler than it normally was, and he desperately hoped that it was only that way because of his recent malnutrition. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was trapped in some man’s home, nearly starved to death and still not feeling near as well as he wanted to be.

Keith had conversed with Shiro over a dinner that was surprisingly normal, despite their current circumstances. He’d sat down at a small dinner table, in a mint green room with vanilla scented candles burning; and torn into a meal of rehydrated steak and mashed potatoes. Shiro hadn’t called him out on how ravenous he’d been with the steak, Keith hadn’t even tried to cut it before he’d dug his teeth into it and eaten it quicker than a starving man on an island could ever dream of eating. He was desperate to fill the hole burning in his stomach, devouring the food before him without embarrassment. Although, looking back on it now Keith could barely keep the blush off of his face. Not only that, but the smile Shiro had given him after dinner was all too charming.

He washed his face, brushing his teeth with an extra toothbrush and tying his hair up in a small loose bun. After his nightly routine he used the toilet and went down the hall to the bedroom that Shiro had allowed him to use for his stay. His legs and arms were shaky as he got into bed, the sheets doing almost nothing to warm his ice cold skin. Keith wondered if he was dying. He couldn’t help but worry about this, the possibility of dying from fever in his sleep and attacking Shiro was all too real. He’d feel terrible if he ended up doing that, not that he’d be able to feel anything because he’d be a mindless beast by then.

And this was why Keith now lay in bed, shivering and staring at the ceiling; at way past sunset. He couldn’t let himself fall asleep. If he did, he’d die and if he did that, then he’d attack Shiro. Simple as that. Frankly, he did want to attack the man; but not in the cannibalistic way. That was another factor of Keith’s worrying. He really didn’t want to wake up moaning to a wet dream. He wouldn’t be able to face Shiro in the morning if that happened. If the night didn’t take his life that is.

So, Keith got up weakly, clambering down the hallway to Shiro’s room. He still remembered where it was from his thieving trek through the house earlier. He stood outside Shiro’s door, swallowing the nervous and emotional lump in his throat and knocked. He tried to steady his nerves as he waited for the man to open the door; looking up to meet his eyes as the door opened three seconds later. He bit his lip out of habit, and Shiro gave him a suspicious look, urging him to speak.

“Is something wrong, Keith?”

“...”

“Keith?”

“...Kill me- please...okay? Kill me..” He broke down faster than he wanted to, but that happened when you threatened your own life. He was going to die, so the least he could do was cry a little.

“What-? I can’t to that!” Shiro’s reply came quickly, and he put a had on Keith’s shoulder.

“You have to okay!? I feel like I’m dying already. If I die in my sleep, I’ll...I’ll kill you! I don’t know you, but I don’t want to do that. So please…”

“You’re dying? Are you sure?”

“My bones feel like ice, and I feel hungry even though I ate thirty minutes ago. I can’t warm up, m-my eyes feel like they’re going to fall out cause I’m so tired...they’re gonna fall out-” He sputtered, falling to his knees with his head down. Keith held his face in his hands, shaking and sobbing; the tears running down his face felt like stagnant cold water.

“Hey- look, come on. Keith, I don’t think it’s a real bite, you don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not! I wasn’t bitten, but I’m dying…”

“Keith…” Shiro pulled Keith up into his arms, carrying him to the bed and placing him down gently. “Look...your body is probably just trying to adjust to the food you ate. You’re still really weak, but you’re not going to die okay? I’ve been alone for too long, I’m not going to let you die and go back to that.” He wrapped his arms around Keith’s shaking body, putting himself at more risk than Keith would’ve ever asked him to.

Keith couldn’t resist, he melted into Shiro’s arms, burying his tear stained face in the man’s shoulder and sobbing. He hated how pathetic he was being, he would’ve never cried like this in front of a stranger. He’d never even cried in front of Knox. He listened to Shiro’s voice as he spoke in hushed whispers, his mouth right by Keith’s ear. He could feel the man rubbing calming circles into his back, his sobbing quieting to a mild whimper. His body still felt so unreal, so dead, so cold; but Shiro felt like a flame, heating him up just enough. Maybe he was just panicking, maybe he’d be fine. He’d been worried about receiving affection again, but he loved it so much already. Being held in the older man’s muscled arms was the stuff of daydreams. It was so unbelievably calming.

“There you go...you’re okay.” Shiro said softly, cupping the back of Keith’s head and pulling back to look at him calmly. “You’re okay, you’re not dying. You’re alive. You won’t die.”

Keith felt like utter shit. He’d barely known this guy for a day, and here he was in his arms crying and acting like the world was ending. Technically it had, but...he felt so weak and disgusting. “O-okay…I’m okay...I’m fine...I’m sorry-” He pushed away from Shiro quickly, standing up shakily and walking to the door. “I’m sorry for everything, good night.”

He walked away before Shiro could say anything, going back to his room and lying down in bed. He kept himself from thinking of anything, falling into an uncomfortable slumber that made itself a habit for the next three days.  
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Three days had passed, and Keith had made sure to keep himself distant from Shiro. He’d almost melted that night, he would’ve given in to his inner most desires, be they childish or sexual he didn’t know. Keith would need to keep himself from giving in, avoiding temptation, avoiding the weakness he’d shown Shiro. That was a dire mistake, showing your humanity to a stranger; he’d never do it again. Shiro didn’t know him well, and probably thought about him as either a nuisance or a threat. The man probably didn’t think of romance at all unlike Keith, and why should he? They were in the middle of an apocalypse, they faced death every day now, personal relationships were the least of their worries. Or at least, they should be. But as Freud said, “Being entirely honest with oneself is a good exercise.” And Keith knew deeply that he wanted to curl up in Shiro’s arms.

The past three days had been so uneventful that it was nearly painful. He’d sat around, reading the books that Shiro left sitting around, listening to the dad music that he liked to play, making small and awkward conversation, trying to keep himself from staring too much. His skin still felt like raw chicken, lukewarm and strange. His eyes still felt sunken in and heavy in his eye sockets. His spine seemed to ache and his bones would pop every time he moved. His hands were always clammy and stiff, so were his feet. He still felt ravenous after each meal, never satisfied. And his bed was still ice cold.

This all had Shiro concerned, his host would always offer Keith tea and blankets, some more food during meals, more pillows, sleeping tablets. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it made no difference at all. But, to Keith the thought was more than enough. He took advantage of every offer that the older man put forth, although he felt guilty about it. Shiro left periodically, going out with only a gun and a pocket knife and returning with cans of beans, soup and other staples. He’d come back with a scratch or two, a sprained joint sometimes. But, would never ask Keith to go with him and never let him come when the Korean offered to. So Keith would do his best to help whenever Shiro returned.

Now was one of those times, and it was a little more severe. Shiro had stumbled through the door, his cheekbone smeared with blood that was dripping from his temple. He bit back a sharp intake of breath, setting his haul down on the crowded countertop; they kept everything there. Keith had been sitting in a corner, curled up with a blanket, a book, and a cup of tea; forgotten and going cold. He sat up quickly, getting up and sighing in distaste as his knees crackled at him. Keith walked over to Shiro and sat him down, brushing back the matted white hair that had stuck to the man's forehead.

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m okay. You can go back to reading.” Shiro said gently, giving Keith a weak smile. “I’m used to this sort of thing.”

“It was a boring story anyways, what happened?” Keith asked, ignoring the soft wave Shiro gave him; urging him to sit back down.

“I just got into a bit of a scuffle and hit my head on a metal bar, it’s nothing really.”

The Korean furrowed his eyebrows, looking closer at the split skin and rapidly forming bruise. He turned Shiro’s head without thought, placing his fingers on the curve of the man’s jaw and peering into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and the one closest to the bruise was slightly larger, definitely a concussion.

“It’s not nothing, you hit your head. There’s mild trauma to your temple that can be really serious. It could lead to swelling in your brain and then the only treatment would be a spinal extraction. I’d have to stick a huge needle into your back and suck the fluid out of your spine, that’s dangerous dammit-”

“How do you know all this?” Shiro asked, seeming a little too nonchalant about the possible severity of his head injury. Ironically the concussion was probably the reason he was so calm about it.

“I was an intern at the ER where I lived, I was in med school. It doesn’t matter. I need to get you into bed and put some ice on your temple- fuck! We don’t have any ice, shit!” Keith face palmed, biting his lip and pacing.

“Keith-”

“Shh I’m trying to think-”

“Keith- they’re snow outside…”

“I said I’m trying to think, I need to get you ice--....snow?”

“Mhm..”

“I’ll be back.” He said, blushing softly and grabbing a towel from the kitchen. He grabbed his switchblade on the way out, not waiting for Shiro to call him back.

Keith stepped outside quickly, searching around for some snow. Most of it was already melted, thanks to the weird ass weather of California. He looked around with a slight rush, flipping things over to see if there was anything left at all, and cursing vulgarly as he heard the familiar snarl of a walker off to his left. He was barely healthy enough to fight the damn thing off, how was he supposed to find any snow? But then- merely feet behind the walker lay a small packed layer of snow, nearly pristine and untouched. The problem was getting it, because if he got too careless he’d actually end up bitten.

He had to take his chances, listening to the clacking of the walkers teeth as it walked around aimlessly. Keith snuck closer, trying to keep low and as still as possible. But, when he got even closer things started to get confusing. This was the time at which a walker would normally start lunging at you, it was only possible to hide from them for so long, and after a certain distance they would spot you no doubt. So why was this walker just hobbling around? Right past him, close enough to feel the brush of it’s gnarled fingers on his shoulder. Keith made a run for it, skidding to a halt on his knees and hurriedly scooping snow into the towel, he got up quickly turning around to see the walker continuing on its way.

He walked to the door to the inside, panting softly and keeping his eyes on the oblivious thing wandering out the street; opening it. Keith closed the door quickly with a slam, pressing his back to the wood and staring at the snow in his hands.

What...the fuck?


	6. Sometimes I think of doing terrible things...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith comes to a frightening conclusion, Shiro gets a little loopy, and their desires begin to surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait y'all! I had a bit of writers block for a sec there, but hopefully this fic is getting back on its way. I hope you all enjoy this thoroughly, feel free to suggest anything. :D

Keith stared down at the snow filled towel clasped in his hands, his breath shaky and short. His chest quivering softly as he took in deep exhales of oxygen and let them out slowly; trying to steady himself. He could hear the walker through the door, shuffling around outside and snarling as it searched for its next meal. The thing was, it had a meal within inches of it just moments ago, but as Keith ran past it, it ignored him completely. Like he didn't exist. Keith would've been overjoyed to discover this, if his recent/current condition had been better. The shaky weakness of his joints and muscles, the lukewarm temperature of his skin, the strange new appetite, the lack of sleep, his ghastly appearance; everything had been concerning him like hell. He didn't know what to do to make himself better, or what to do to convince himself that he was fine. He would've turned long ago, if he'd truly been bitten. But...maybe being bitten by a person still had certain effects. He'd seen people turn, even when they hadn't been bitten and died of natural causes. It was very possible that everyone was already infected, he'd heard lots of his old friends talking about it; it didn't seem too unrealistic now that he thought about it.

Would being bitten by a living person make you turn a little bit?

Maybe it would...maybe Keith was part walker now. Maybe that's why he felt so...undead.

After thinking about it for a moment, Keith decided that this was probably the case; and he decided that it was pretty fucking cool. He wouldn't tell Shiro just yet, since it didn't seem to be any danger and he needed to think some more. Besides, Shiro had a damn concussion, Keith's part walker-ness didn't mean jack shit right now.

He walked back over to Shiro quickly, who was sitting patiently in a chair at the kitchen counter; although he did seem really nervous. He was twiddling his thumbs and tugging at the skin of his lower lip, tapping his foot softly. Keith walked up, placing a gentle hand on Shiro's shoulder and sitting down next to him. He spoke as the older man turned his chair to look at him.

"Hey, I got the snow."

"That was really dangerous you kno-"

"I know, but your concussion is kind of serious...scold me later."

"...alright." Shiro's reply was soft and tired, like he'd given up for now, reserving himself but still concerned. The way his voice sounded made Keith's adam's apple bob in his throat. It was undeniably deep and sensual, without the man even trying.

Keith pushed back Shiro's hair again, using the dampness of the towel to wipe away the blood and pressing the snowy bit to his temple. He was gentle holding it close to the bruising skin and moving it around every so often.  
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Keith was so focused, galactic eyes dark and intent on his temple; Shiro felt himself tear into his own lip even more just thinking about how Keith was looking at him. Even if the intense look wasn't actually focused on him, he couldn't help but imagine if it was. A deep tingling sensation went up his spine with each breath he took, and he tried to keep himself composed. His eyes traveled over every inch of Keith's face as he waited for him to finish, it was easy to stare since Keith was so focused. He let his eyes roam over the younger man's small forehead, down to his strong dark eyebrows, the bridge of his tiny upturned nose, the seductive angle of his eyes and the long eyelashes framing them, his porcelain cheeks, pointed chin, and those plump pouty lips. God, Shiro wanted to devour them.

No. Shiro stop that, you idiot.

He turned his eyes to the floor, ignoring the stinging sensation on his skin, the coldness of the snow, the twitch of Keith’s fingers that happened every few seconds; a nervous tremor maybe. Shiro huffed out a gentle sigh, trying to keep his muddled head clear of inappropriate thoughts and stupid ideas. But then again, he had a concussion. What was the harm in hamming it up a little bit?

“Ugh...I can’t think straight.” He groaned, furrowing his eyebrows dramatically, although...he was a superb actor so he doubted Keith would notice he way playing it a little too hard. And honestly, the lack of clarity wasn’t exactly a lie.

“...let’s get you into bed, I shouldn’t have you sitting up like this anyway.” Shiro watched with interest and feigned innocence as Keith pushed his slim shoulder under his arm and did his best to support the older man’s weight. “At least help a little, asshole.”

Shiro let out an apologetic huff, standing up to ease up a little on Keith’s smaller frame. He walked up the stairs, stumbling at least once to keep up the facade. His head did hurt, but he knew it wasn’t all that serious. If it was, then Shiro really was an idiot and his concussion was worse than he thought. Perhaps it was messing up his thoughts.

Once they made it to Shiro’s bedroom, Keith helped him to lay down, tugging off his muddied shoes and tossing them to the other side of the room. He was a bit rough around the edges, but as Keith pulled the blankets over Shiro’s torso and offered to bring him tea, the man understood why Keith was a med student. He was a lot more sympathetic than someone would think at first glance. He shook his head softly, burying his face in the pillows like a whiny toddler. “Mmm no...I’m okay.” He’d rather pull Keith into bed than to have a cup of tea right now...

“You don’t sound okay. In fact, you sound somewhere between orgasm and a stroke. An orgasmic old man- fucking gross.” The younger man interrupted himself, gagging softly. “Nevermind, I’ll get you some tea anyway okay? Be back in a second. “ Keith rushed out of the room. “What kind of tea ya want?” He asked, pausing in the doorway and peeking through it as a second thought.

“Just some green, or oolong..no sugar, thank you.” Shiro said softly, smiling to himself as Keith disappeared again. It felt so nice to be doted on for once, but he really just wanted the younger man in his arms. He sighed, listening to Keith’s hurried footsteps as he traveled downstairs to the kitchen.  
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Keith skidded into the kitchen from the hallway, sliding on his felt bottomed converse and pulling open the tea cabinet and quickly putting a tea bag into a mug and filling it with bottled water. It was a fucking miracle that they could still use the microwave, Shiro had been lucky enough to stumble upon a backup generator and had hooked it up to the building. He warmed the tea up, letting it steep for a minute at most and hauling ass back upstairs, careful to not spill it.

He brought it back to Shiro’s room, to find the older man sitting up again, looking out the window at the broken windows of another building. In one of the more distant ones, a walkers arms waved limply out of it, shards of glass still embedded in the hands of the woman who had once been living. A silver banded wedding ring glinted softly in the sunlight, on her left ring finger. Soon enough, when the finger fell off, the ring would go with it, forever forgotten in the madness of the world.

He turned his attention back to the room, setting the steaming cup of tea on a small bedside table. “Here you go. How’s your head feeling?” Keith asked gently.

Shiro met his eyes, his own looking a bit sleepy and still abnormally dilated. “Thank you, Keith.” He smiled, taking the mug and sipping its contents. “Oh- you picked my favorite.” He laughed softly, setting it down. “My heads um...okay. It’s a little fuzzy though, and the skin stings.”

“That fits along the lines of a concussion. It should go away within a day, but if it doesn’t, you’d better tell me.” Keith said sternly.

“I will.” The older man paused, thinking for a moment, before a childishly sweet look spread across his face. He turned to look at Keith again, looking a little more comfortable in bed. “Thank you for helping me, but I have one more favor to ask, if it’s not too much.”

“Oh, sure...yeah. Shoot.” Keith hummed.

“Could you lie down here for a few minutes? You look really worn out...I feel terrible for asking you to do so much.” The words floated through the air like clouds, their hazy forms bursting halfway through their journey to Keith’s ears. It was then that he realized how tired he actually was. “And um...maybe let me patch you up again? You’ve got a nasty little cut on your cheek, must’ve nicked it when you went outside.”

“Do I? I mean, um sure. I guess the adrenaline got to me, I didn’t feel a thing. But I can’t impose on you any more than that, that’s your bed. So you rest up, I’ll take care of my cheek.”  
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Shiro could hear the self sacrificial tone in Keith’s voice as he spoke, he watched the way the young man took a little too long to pick up on his words, through his own haze of concussion which was actually becoming legitimate. At least he didn’t have to pretend any more.

“Aww come on, lay down and relax a little, you look real tired…”

Wait...why was Keith asking him to lay down, he was already in bed. Shiro slapped himself internally after a pause, sighing. It wasn’t Keith talking, it was himself and he had no idea how he’d mistaken his own deep voice for the sweet but bitter melody that was Keith’s.

“I-...I really shouldn’t you need rest, I’ll just keep you up with my tossing and turning.” He watched Keith’s lips dance with every word, a soft groan building in Shiro’s throat as he did. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, his imagination would get too wild and he’d do something he shouldn’t, he just knew it. But god he wanted to hold that beautiful slim body in his arms and fall asleep just like that. Keith had no reason to decline, did he? 

Shiro felt his ego melt away as he thought of all the reasons why Keith wouldn’t want to get in bed with him: A lack of trust? No attraction to him whatsoever? A complete hatred for him? Not being gay, bi or even pan? Not liking muscly guys? What if it was Shiro’s arm…? 

What was it?

Oh-

He was scared...wasn’t he?

Scared of turning on Shiro, of dying in his sleep. That’s why he looked so tired wasn’t it. He was too terrified to fall asleep.

“Hey, I don’t mind tossing. I do plenty more of that than you do, I’m sure of it. And...I know you have a hard time sleeping, I’ll help with that as best as I can. If you’re missing physical contact like I am, then I’m sure that’s part of the problem.” He paused. “Honestly...you’re the first person I’ve met in a long while...I’d give up my other arm to cuddle someone. Please…” Shiro pulled a pout that he was sure would have at least a slight effect on Keith, and boy was he glad he was right. He watched Keith’s thoughts cross his face, stubbornness, embarrassment, acceptance.

“Damn okay- don’t do that anymore…” Keith scolded, he pulled his boots off, roughly tossing them to the side and walking over to the bed. “You’d better drink that fucking tea though.” He growled, rolling onto the bed with a large lack of grace and letting out an irritated huff at the crackle of his stiff joints.

That caught Shiro off guard, and he had to bite back a wince. He wasn’t very fond of joint popping or the sounds that came with having bones. 

He wondered how long Keith’s bones had been creaking like that...


	7. Dancing on Your Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro get lost in each other when the adrenaline dies down.

Keith studied Shiro’s expression as he joined the older man on the bed, huffing quietly to himself when he saw the tiniest trace of a cringe his face. He wondered how Shiro would react to finding out that Keith was a...well what was he? He couldn’t be a walker, or at least not completely. He had to be somewhere between that and human, right? He didn’t know how he’d explain it. Would he be able to just flat out say it? Just come out and say ‘Hey I think I’m dead, by the way.’ And while he was at it, just add ‘Oh and I totally want to fuck you, if you’re up to it dude.’ Utterly ridiculous...

Even if he’d been completely alive, warm and less creaky, not as pale, Keith had little to no assurance of Shiro wanting to sleep with him. He was practically a walking corpse even with the blood running through his veins. It wasn’t stagnant and clotted like that of a walkers, but who would want to hold someone’s cold chicken skin against their own like that? He wondered if he smelled rotten, or if he ever would. Would he start decaying when he was still living? Would it be gruesome and slow like the plague? Or would his body just fall apart one day? Losing fingers and toes as his heart started to slowly come to a halt. Maybe he’d never know how it felt to have someone’s chest pressed against his back again. To feel their lips on his neck, their hands ghosting over his hips and collar bones, holding him close and dear.

His mind snapped back to focus as he heard the soft sound of a sigh to his right, looking over to see Shiro’s lips pressed to the rim of the mug, steam lifting from the tea inside and leaving a soft dewy mist against the skin of his nose. He looked relaxed and blissful almost, eyes closed with uplifted eyebrows, dark eyelashes lying delicately on his high cheekbones. He could feel the slight tension between the two of them, unspoken words, a static electricity ran through Keith’s body that he couldn’t release. He didn’t want to tell Shiro yet, didn’t want to tell him about how the bite was affecting him, how it had caused his blood to go cold. The peaceful look on the older mans face did nothing to dispel the strenuous atmosphere, chilling the air that he was breathing. 

Keith looked back to the window, scanning shattered windows for the arm of that woman, catching sight of the slight twitch of her fingers as a crow landed on the windowsill. The birds black feathers shone metallically with the smoggy sunlight that reflected off of them, as it bent forward giving a tentative peck to the silver band on the walkers left ring finger. He couldn’t hear her growl, but the way she swatted at the bird hinted at one, a predatory movement, quite ridiculous being that she was now the prey. The crow flew off for a moment, rounding back and landing on the windowsill once more, becoming more confident as it pecked at her knuckle, tearing at her ligaments until they snapped, sending her finger plummeting three stories down, to the pavement. The crow followed seconds later, victorious, enamored with its success.

Keith would be like her one day, although he doubted he’d ever don a wedding band like that. Not when the world was like this. Surely not when he was dying a little more every day.

“Keith.” He felt the smooth metallic fingers of Shiro’s right hand rest gently on his bony shoulder, looking back to the older man once more.

“Yeah..?” His voice shook more than he ever would have liked it to.

“What are you thinking about?” Shiro furrowed his eyebrows, pouting his lips slightly, without much intention probably. He sat up, setting his tea down and turned to face Keith with his body, hands clasped together in his lap.

“The future I guess, what will happen to me...you know?”

“I think about that a lot, I can’t say anything good ever comes to mind…”

“What do you think will happen to you?”

“I have two ideas of what might happen. If I stay safe here, if nothing gets in, I’ll probably die an old man. If I’m too reckless, I’ll die at the hands of one of those things, probably out on a supply run...any day now.” He paused. “What do you think will happen?”

Keith didn’t hesitate with his answer. “I’m going to die on my own accord most likely, from past mistakes…”

“Mistakes?”

“I shouldn’t have gone back to that camp. If I’d just gone on my own before then, I wouldn’t feel so worried about...well everything.” He thought back to Adrian, remembering the rage he’d felt when he lost his friend. In his week with Shiro, somehow Keith had forgotten to grieve. He’d told himself he would, once he was in safety, but somehow the tears hadn’t come to his eyes. He’d been losing people his whole life, perhaps the ocean in his eyes had run dry.

“You still think that bite is going to kill you?”

“I can’t say no...it’s always at the back of my mind. There’s always a possibility.”

“Try your best to live through it, if it comes to that...please.” Shiro whispered, perhaps thinking Keith didn’t hear him.

“I’m too afraid of death to let it take me without a fight.” Keith whispered back.

“You don’t really let anything take you without a fight, do you?” Shiro leaned forward just the slightest, his dark eyes intense, looking directly ahead at Keith’s own. “The scars on your knuckles, the blood under your nails, you don’t give up. It’s admirable.”

“You’re not one to give up either.” The young man said loosely, gesturing to Shiro’s prosthetic. “Tell me...did that happen before or after the world ended?”

“Four years before, when I was twenty, I was reckless and full of energy. I was a totally different person from who I am now. Joining the police as a rookie chasing people around on a motorcycle when they tried to run from tickets. I wasn’t prepared for the real deal, and I fell face first into a pile of gang wars, homicide, and drugs...I didn’t come out unscathed.”

“So you’re not reckless any more?” Keith whispered, reaching out to run his fingers over Shiro’s silver knuckles.

“I can’t say I’m any less reckless, I just have...better impulse control..” He watched as Shiro leant farther forward, placing his hand over Keith’s on the bed and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Keith pushed back into the kiss quickly, his fingers balling up under Shiro’s palm, his eyes fluttering shut. Shiro’s lips felt so warm compared to his own, burning almost, and he missed them when he pulled away.

“It seems like that control is faltering…” Keith said breathily, startling himself with how honey sweet his voice was.

“I can only resist so long.” Shiro pushed Keith back against the sheets, hovering over him, running his flesh fingers up the younger man's chest. “Can I look at you?...touch you?” He whispered.

“I don’t mind.” The young man said softly, guiding Shiro’s fingers to the hem of his shirt, and slowly curling them around the fabric. He let his eyes follow the man’s fingers tighten against the fabric, pulling it up, past Keith’s ribs and over his head. He watched Shiro’s eyes travel over his skin, lingering on his hips and neck, shivering as his hands came up slowly to run up his sides, thumbs pressing into his nipples and pulling away milliseconds later. The touch too short to make them perk up, but just long enough to have his body's attention.

“So delicate...you look like a porcelain doll.” His lips bled the words out into the air, voice deep and sultry sending heat to Keith’s cheeks.

“I never thought someone would see me that way.” Keith gasped, closing his eyes.

“How can I not?” Neither of them tried to answer that question. Shiro’s hands were on the move once again, tugging at the hem of Keith’s sweatpants and bringing them off his ankles one at a time. He didn’t go any further than that, pulling Keith into another kiss and his tongue flicking across the younger mans lips sensually. Keith let his lips part, responding to the kiss with a warm sigh, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck. 

Despite how calm everything was, Keith’s mind was racing. He couldn’t process the situation that he was in, couldn’t even fathom that Shiro would want him like this. It was lovely and he keened into the touch, tugging at the collar of Shiro’s tee-shirt.

“Off..” He whispered, kissing the older mans jaw softly.

He watched with a strange childishness as Shiro pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a toned set of abs, sculpted pectorals and biceps that he desperately wanted to cling to. He was both jealous of Shiro’s body and highly pleased with it and he leaned forward to place a hand in the center of his chest.

“...being a police officer really did you well...didn’t it?” Keith asked breathily.

“You don’t mind the scars, or the arm?” He heard Shiro ask from above him.

“If I’m being honest I didn’t even notice the scars, I could care less.” He paused. “...and they’re kinda hot.” Keith said under his breath.

“You’re kinda hot.” The older man chuckled, cupping Keith’s cheek and pulling him down onto the bed.

Keith huffed softly, running his hand up Shiro’s side and tracing the outlines of his abs. He grinned when he returned the touch with a small caress of Keith’s shoulder and hip, letting his fingers wander further down and over the seam of his boxer briefs, squeezing his thigh lightly.

They didn’t speak as they admired each others bodies, just touching gently and pressing soft kisses to knuckles and cheeks, totally infatuated with one another. Keith was completely awed by how softly Shiro touched him, like he was cradling a baby bird.


End file.
